


building up and letting go

by girlmarauders



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Carey Price thinks he has no feelings and he's a liar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 05:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18359927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarauders/pseuds/girlmarauders
Summary: Carey has been trying to hold this back for two years.





	building up and letting go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragons_and_angels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_and_angels/gifts).



> Thanks for letting me remix such a fun fic! I hope you like what I ended up remixing.

Carey had inherited a lot from his parents. He was honoured with their history and their wisdom, and he was proud of what he had from them. But sometimes, the obligations were a pain in the neck.

“Mom,” he said into the phone, keeping it tucked between his head and his neck while he chopped vegetables. “I told you yesterday, I can’t come to the Winter Court this year. I have the All-Star game.”

“You wouldn’t have to stay for long,” his mom said, and he huffed some air out, annoyed. His mom was always harassing him about coming to the Winter Court. He hadn’t been in years, because the schedule never worked, but she worried it negatively affected his luck. “There’s going to be some very important Winter fae there,” she said.

He sighed.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. His mom hummed, like she knew he was trying to fob her off.

“How is Pernell doing? He sent me a lovely card a few weeks ago. He says it's still warm in Tennessee, can you imagine?” she said.

“Mom,” he said flatly.

“Oh sweetie, I know I know, but don't you think things would be easier if you spoke to him?” she said gently. She loved PK. What wasn't to love? Handsome and charming and well-spoken, he was easy to like and easier to love. Carey knew the feeling, but it would be too easy to fall back into the addictive circle of PK's attention, the intoxicating quality of making him laugh. No, it was better to keep his distance.

“Mom, it's fine,” he said, and then changed the subject. It was the only way he'd ever be free of the topic. “Did dad deal with the pixie infestation?”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Those little monsters! Your dad's had a nightmare of a time-”

Carey tuned out while he maneuvered chicken into the oven. As a kid, being fae, and having fae family, had been a thrilling secret, something only he knew. As an adult, he realised more and more his family’s problems looked like everyone else's. He talked to his mom until dinner was ready, and then let her go, but not before she reminded him to think about the Winter Court one more time.

“Staying in everyone’s good graces is important to stay lucky, Carey,” she said, and he nodded mechanically, even though she couldn’t see him. “In your line of work..” she trailed off. He sighed.

“I know Mom,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Talk soon okay?”

“Okay sweetie,” she said, and they said their goodbyes, and Carey ate his dinner and didn’t think about the Winter Court, or PK at all.

&&&

They had a long road trip, swinging east, down to Florida, and then, right at the end, all of them tired, two days in Nashville. Carey focused on the game, on watching tape and thinking about the Preds’ plays. He didn't feel anything when he saw PK on the tapes, he was just another player, and Carey was only thinking about his shot, what he looked like when he faked, the angles he preferred. Excelling was about self-discipline and control. He didn’t watch PK’s tapes for any longer than anyone else’s, because letting himself linger would have been a weakness.

They lost the game. It wasn’t the same, it hadn’t been the same for some time. Carey knew teams changed, and he’d gotten used to the idea of being the centre that the rest of the team moved around, but a lot of familiar faces were gone now. The locker room felt different. Oh, Brendan behaved exactly the same, but the new kid, Jesperi, he was just a child, and a lot of the other guys kept their distance. Max was in Vegas now, and Chucky, quiet and gruff and uninterested in impressing Carey, was in Arizona. He shook his head, feeling the sweat in his hair, and mentally kicked himself. No point in dwelling. He stripped out of the rest of his gear, and showered, and packed up his things to go back to the hotel.

In the hall, PK was lingering out the dressing room, his hands shoved in his sweatpants. Carey stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Hey Pricey,” PK said, with a smile. Carey stared back at him for a long moment. It wasn’t silence, because rinks never were, there were people in the hallway moving equipment, and the sounds of the locker room behind Carey. “Happy to see me?” PK asked.

Carey opened his mouth to say something, anything, and then grunted heavily when someone collided with his back.

“What the hell Pricey?” Brendan said, shoving at him a little, and then peering over his shoulder. “Oh hey PK. Fuck you for scoring.”

“Nice to see you too Gally,” Pk said, laughing. Brendan shoved at Carey again, and he shuffled out of the doorway and into the hallway. Gally paused to fist bump PK, his bag slung over his shoulder, and then to punch PK’s shoulder playfully.

“You’re such a fucking diver man, that penalty was bullshit,” said Brendan, but he was grinning, and Brendan had always been like that, quick to anger, easy to rile up, but quick to forget as well, forgiving after the fact. PK laughed, and hunched like he was a boxer, fake squaring-up with Gally.

“Maybe next time I’ll give you more than a facewash eh?” PK said, batting Gally’s hands away. Brendan pulled his bag up his shoulder.

“I gotta go get on the bus,” he said, and him and PK clasped hands. “Nice to see you man.”

The hallway was quiet once Brendan left, and Carey kicked his heels against the cinderblock wall, feeling awkward. He didn’t want to leave without saying anything, but it had been nearly two years since they had hung out on their own together. Carey had been careful, and a part of him had hoped PK hadn’t noticed, had been too busy, had moved on from him. It was a cruel, painful thought, but the only person it hurt was him.

“Been a while,” he said eventually, to break the silence, and PK smiled at him. PK was always smiling, his expressive, elastic face jumping between emotions easily. “You look good.”

PK preened.

“I’m hot stuff,” he said. Carey shrugged, keeping a straight face even though he wanted to smile. God, he had missed PK so much. He had missed him every day since he had left.

“You come by for any reason, or just to tell me how hot you are?” Carey asked. His own trecherous voiced revealed how entertained he was. PK put his hands back in his pockets, and for a split-second his face was serious, before he was smiling again.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to come out for dinner, actually,” he said, and shrugged. “It’s been a while Pricey.”

He should say no. It was dangerous to get too close to people, and especially dangerous with PK, who he couldn’t resist. He wanted to touch him, to feel the warm solidness of his body. PK was smiling at him like he couldn’t even imagine a world where Carey said no. What was he supposed to do?

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll come over. You have to get me back before curfew though.”

“Don’t worry,” PK said. “I’ll get you home before you turn into a pumpkin. You’re in safe hands.”

Carey felt the corners of his lips tug upwards in a smile he couldn’t surpress.

PK had a big new car, with blacked out windows, and Carey dumped his bag in he back seat before he climbed in the passenger side door. PK made a big show of diving for the aux cord, protecting it from Carey.

“What are you doing?” Carey asked dryly.

“I’m protecting my baby from your bad influence,” PK said, overselling the facial expression. “No country has touched her.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Carey said, and PK laughed and elbowed him, and then quit monkeying around and took the car out of park.

“I’m just fucking with you Pricey. I bet none of those new rookies make fun of you, they’re all probably scared of you,” he said.

Carey made a face.

“A little yeah. Gally’s still the same,” he said.

“Yeah, well, he never was the shapest tool in the shed, eh?” PK said, and Carey snorted.

“No, I guess not,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. He didn’t want to watch PK’s hands, or his face. They hadn’t spoken for two years, and PK could saunter through all of Carey’s defenses, all his careful distance, because PK didn’t understand or care why Carey closed himself off. It was for good reasons - relationships as a fae were difficult - but he always forgot his reasons around PK.

The rest of the drive was nothing. PK talked about some of the guys on his team, and they talked about the weather, a few of the sports Carey didn’t keep up on, other small talk, and before he knew it, PK was pulling into his driveway and putting the car in park.

“We’re here. Mi casa es tu casa and everything. C’mon,” he said. “I’ll give you the tour.”

PK’s house was big, and lived-in. It looked like his family had been over recently, and there was an abandoned card game in the game room. PK pointed things out in every room: a picture of his mom at her first Nashville game, a taped-up puck on a shelf from a point milestone, empty beer bottles from a boys’ night. Upstairs, PK hesistated outside his open bedroom door.

“This is where the magic happens,” he said. Carey could see his unmade bed, and discarded clothes through the open door. He had used to be pretty good at reading PK’s moods, the difference between confidence and bravado, but he felt off-balance now, unsure of where he stood in PK’s big house, full of the life he’d made while Carey had stayed in Montreal, dwelling on the past.

They had been alone in PK’s house in Montreal the first and only time they had kissed. It had been the summer, and they’d drunk a bottle of wine on PK’s patio, their last chance to see each other before they truly seperated for the summer. Carey could remember it so clearly, the way PK had glowed in the setting sunlight, the twin feeling of magic and desire Carey had felt. It had been so easy for both of them to lean over and kiss. They had all the time in the world. They’d seperated, giggling, with promises to see each other once their summer obligations were over. PK had been traded weeks later.

Carey shifted his weight, feling a little nervous in the silence.

“Magic huh?” he said. PK leaned on the doorjam. His arms flexed, and his biceps looked good, all of him looked good. Carey felt that same feeling he remembered, desire and his own natural magic, like pressure under his skin, wanting to leap free.

“Yeah,” PK said quietly. They were only a small step apart. It would be nothing to cross the distance, and pull them together. Carey found himself furiously wishing PK would do it. He couldn’t do it himself, but he could let it happen to him. Something must have shown on his face, because PK inaled deeply.

“Goddamnit Carey,” he said, and then did it, stepping forward until they were chest to chest, and then kissed him.

Carey felt like something travelled through his body at high-speed; the realisation that PK was kissing him, and kissing back happened in the same moment. PK’s body was warm against his, and he gripped PK’s arm to keep him close, pushing into the kiss. They both made involuntary noises, and Carey sucked on PK’s tongue, tasting him and listening to him react. His skin prickled. He wanted PK so much.

PK backed them up until Carey’s back hit the wall, not breaking the kiss. Bot h of them were fumbling with their hands, not sure where to touch, but then PK got his hands under Carey’s t-shirt, onto his bare skin, and they both groaned deeply. PK’s hands pressing against his skin felt amazing, like he could feel his touch all over his body, in the soles of his feet, and on the top of his head.

“Carey,” PK said, breathless, when they broke their kiss, but Carey couldn’t slow down, or he’d realise what he was doing and have to stop. He pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor. PK made a noise in his throat, and buried his face in the join between Carey’s shoulder and neck, kissing and biting while he run his hands over Carey’s stomach muscles. “God, Carey,” he said, and Carey kissed him fiercely, pushing him until they broke away from the wall and stumbled into PK’s bedroom. They broke apart to pull PK’s shirt off, and PK opened Carey’s fly while they kissed. Neither of them could pause for more than a second, until they were kissing again, all the years of thwarted hopes building into a pressure they couldn’t escape. And why not? Carey was tired of denying himself the things he wanted, tired of avoiding the people he liked in case they got too close. No one would deny him a single mistake, one night of the things he couldn’t have. PK lived in Nashville. It was safe. They would kiss and fuck, and Carey would be the one who left this time, the one who broke PK’s heart for a change. There were a vicious, furious part of himself that was glad of it.

PK pulled away to pull off his jeans quickly, pushing Carey back towards the bed.

“Get undressed Pricey,” he said, grinning, when he caught Carey watching. “You’ll get to see all of this in a second.”

Carey smiled, unable to help himself, and reached out to pull PK, naked now except for his boxers, into another kiss, and then both of them toppled over into PK’s bed, rolling over once until Carey was on his back and PK leaning over him, laughing. They wrestled, shoving back and forth, kissing, their bodies sliding against one another. PK held Carey down with one hand on his stomach while he pulled his jeans off, dodging Carey’s kicking legs. Carey rolled them again, so he was on top and could see all of PK spread out on the bed, and grind his hips down into his. PK was hard, and so was Carey, both of them breathless and groaning as they rubbed against each other. Carey felt warm all over, and increasingly out of control. He wanted to cover PK’s body with his own, to get as close as was possible, to feel everything he could.

They kissed, and Carey pressed a thumb against PK’s nipple, to hear him groan.

“Will you fuck me?” he asked, when he pulled away. PK groaned, and pressed his face to Carey’s chest, like he couldn’t bear to look at him.

“God, Carey, yeah,” he said. “There’s stuff in the drawer.”

‘Stuff’ was a half-used tube of lube, and an open box of condoms. He grabbed the lube, and ignored the condoms. He didn’t get sick like humans did, and if he was was going to have one night of mistakes, he was going all the way.

“Here, let me,” PK said, reaching for the lube, but Carey pushed him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll be faster,” he said. “Take your boxers off.”

PK’s face fell, but Carey was right. He would be faster, and he didn’t want PK to be gentle with him. He pulled his own boxers off, kicking them off the bed with one foot, and then straddled PK’s thick thighs, using his whole weight to hold him down. PK could take it.

If they were doing this properly, Carey would have taken his time with PK’s naked body, with his first chance to touch everywhere he wanted to, but this wasn’t a romance, Carey didn’t want to take his time. He knew himself and his own body, and he could take it.

He rubbed his fingers with lube, and then pushed two of them against his hole, breathing in slowly. It was a strange burn and pleasure all at once, but he breathed through it, and watched PK’s face watching him rapturously.

“Carey,” he said, running a hand up Carey’s thigh, and he couldn’t take how PK was looking at him, like this was everything he had wanted. He scissored his fingers, stretching himself, and hissing when he rode the edge of what was comfortable. His dick was half-hard, flagging a little from his impatience, and he grit his teeth.

“Touch me,” he said. “PK, please.”

PK didn’t hesitate, or ask if he was okay, the two things Carey dreaded. He wrapped his hand around Carey’s dick, stroking him tightly. God, that felt so good. The feeling was back, the pressure of his own magic at the edge of his skin, electricity racing against his scalp. Was this what it felt like to get what you wanted?

“Okay, okay,” he said, pulling his fingers out of himself, and moving forward. “I’m good.”

There was the pause of re-arranging, and Carey had to lean back to line PK’s dick up, but then, finally, he could sink down, letting his weight fuck him slowly onto PK’s cock, filling him up, stretching him. He groaned, long and slow, tipping his head up to look at the ceiling and blink. It was so overwhelming, it was like his head was full of static.

“Carey, Carey,” PK was saying, and he was trying so hard to hold still, but even under Carey his hips were moving in little hitches, pushing his dick into Carey’s body. Each movement lit up Carey’s spine, like a fire moved up it into his brain, and he groaned, falling forward so he could kiss PK’s neck, his face, uncoordinated the whole time.

“PK, you can fuck me, you can,” he said, breathlessly, near PK’s ear, and PK didn’t let him down, didn’t disappoint. He wrapped a hand around Carey’s back, holding him in place, and fucked him, steadily, not letting up. Each thrust made Carey gasp, and he couldn’t think, he could barely catch his breath.

“Ah, ah, oh fuck, ah,” he was saying. He was so close, but he wanted to see PK come, he wanted to feel it inside him, he wanted to be close when it happened. His skin felt too thin, like it was strecthed over the storm inside him, over the roiling lightning that wanted to escape. PK groaned, and then thrust hard into him, staying in place while he shook.

“Oh god,” he said, when he’d stopped shaking, and moved his hips to slide out of Carey, the sensation strange, and a little sticky. Carey didn’t care. He had what he’d wanted, and now he was just hard and turned on and desperate to come.

“PK,” he said, fumbling for PK’s hands. “Please, please.”

He curled inwards when PK got a hand on him, pressing his face to PK’s bare skin, a little damp with sweat, while he fucked into the tight circle of PK’s fingers. He was helpless, so far gone into the feeling. He was sore where PK had fucked him, and he could feel where PK’s stubble had scratched him. He hoped he’d have marks.

The edge of his orgasm was so close, and it felt like a wave like something crashing into him, out of control, wild, like the first taste of magic, the first roar of the wild hunt. The static of his orgasm whited out his brain, a forgiving moment where he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.

When the feeling receded, he had to blink for a second. He’d closed his eyes against the strength of the feeling, and now his awareness came back slowly.

“Holy fucking shit,” PK said, and Carey was going to agree, but PK’s tone didn’t seem normal. It wasn’t the tone of someone recovering after sex, it was something else.

Carey sat up, and PK was looking at him with wild eyes, his face shocked, confused. Carey took a second to check in with himself: hands, feet, eyes… He paused, and looked over his shoulder. The shadow out the corner of his eye wasn’t a shadow, it was wings.

“Fuck!” Carey said, and tried to turn to get a better look, but they were attached to him, he was just flailing around on top of PK like an idiot, his wings flexing and retracting every time he moved. They were huge, and they weren’t feathered, they were membraneous, more like a bat’s wings than a birds, a soft downy grey all over.

“Carey, Carey, woah,” PK said, and grabbed Carey’s hands, holding his wrists until he stopped moving. “Okay, okay, holy fuck, okay.”

“Let go!” Carey said, and PK did, but it had worked, he wasn’t flailing around any more. Suddenly, the intensity of his feelings made sense. He had his own natural magic, like most fae, but he had it under control. He’d always been good at controlling it. He’d slipped up, he’d let it out, and now he had _wings_.

They were both still naked, and now Carey didn’t feel good, or turned on, or anything that justified it. He climbed off PK, stumbling when the wings unbalanced him, flapping them a little to stay standing up, and managed to find his boxers and pull them on. PK sat up, and pulled his own on with less stumbling.

“Carey, what’s happening?” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at Carey like he’d have all the answers. “Carey?”

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know,” Carey said, trying to pull his jeans on. Every time he bent over the wings flapped, and he nearly unbalanced. “I have to get out of here.”

“What? No, you can’t go,” PK said, reaching out a hand. Carey pulled back.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, and PK stopped reaching, raising his hands up.

“Hey, hey, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m freaking out, you’re freaking out, I don’t think it’s a good time to run off,” he paused, and Carey kept dressing. “Carey, c’mon. Don’t do this.”

Carey stopped, with his t-shirt in his hands. He didn’t know how to put it on over the wings.

“I need to call my mom,” he said. PK blinked.

“Okay,” he said. “We can do that. C’mon, sit down.”

Carey crossed the room and sat down on the bed, and PK dug out his phone from his jeans.

“Here, you can use my mine. I never deleted the number,” he said. Carey’s heart clenched. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who had dwelled on the past.

Carey scrolled to the contact and pressed dial. His mom picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” she said. “PK? Is that you?”

“Uh, it’s Carey, mom. I’m at PK’s. “

“Oh, sweetie, that’s so good. I’m so glad you’re talking!”

“Uh,” Carey said, looking over at PK who was listening. He smiled supportively. “It’s not like that Mom. Something happened. Uh, something...different.”

He didn’t want to say fae in front of PK. He hoped his Mom got the implication.

“Carey, did something happen with your magic?” she asked. It was a weird feeling, but his wings flexed nervously.

“Yeah,” he said, looking at his hand. “Uh, I kinda...grew wings. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Oh..well shit,” his mom said, and Carey made a face. He hadn’t heard his mom swear in years. “Carey, what...what were you doing when this happened?”

Carey paused for a second, and looked over at PK.

“Uh, Mom.. I don’t know if you want me to say,” he said. PK smirked, and Carey elbowed him. He didn’t need to be thinking about this on the phone with his mom.

“I see,” his mom said delicately. “And PK’s seen them I assume?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Carey said. “I haven’t told him anything.”

“You can tell him,” his mom said. “Pernell will understand. Carey, our magic isn’t a tool we control. If we don’t listen to it, it takes matters into its own hands. It’s sending you a message, that what you’ve been thinking, it can’t stay inside any longer. You need to talk to PK, not just about the wings. Do you hear me Carey?”

That was what Mom said when she wanted him to know she was serious, that what she was saying was important to hear. It sent a cold chill down Carey’s spine. He had held back for so long. It was terrifying to think he couldn’t control everything, that even himself, his body and magic, were things he could not perfectly control. He wasn’t a machine, but he wanted to be.

“I hear you Mom,” he said, and clenched his fist. God, he had fucked up. She had warned him. Could he dig himself out? Maybe this was the chance. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Say hello to Pernell for me. Call me when you get home tomorrow,” she said.

“I will,” he said, and then hung up, holding the phone in front of him for a second. PK’s background was a picture of the view from his old house in Montreal, Carey still recognised it. Maybe they had both been dwelling in the past, all this time, and maintaining a fiction that things were different. Neither of them had forgotten those golden moments in Montreal.

Carey’s wings flexed, and then stretched out to their full span, making PK duck to let them spread past him, but Carey barely noticed. He had to believe their chance wasn’t gone. He had been raised to believe that magic didn’t happen for no reason. It was as changeable and strange as the fae, but it had its own logic, its own reasons. And the fae, and their magic, including Carey’s magic, they believed in love.

“PK,” he said slowly, looking up from the phone. PK wasn’t smiling, but he raised his eyebrows, open and expectant, just waiting for whatever Carey needed to say. “Have you missed me?” he said, finally.

A slow smile spread over PK’s face, until he was lit up from the inside. Carey was pretty sure PK was human, but his smile was its own kind of magic.

“Yeah, Pricey,” he said. “I’ve missed you a lot.”

It was the confirmation Carey needed, and he smiled tentatively back, and then slowly, both of them in the shade of his wings, he leaned forward, cupping PK’s cheek and pulling him into a kiss, lush and soft. He wanted it to contain everything he had been thinking, everything he’d been holding back. He was full of love, and needed to let PK know.

Both of them had their eyes closed, but slowly the shadow over them faded as Carey’s wings folded in, and then slowly, almost too slow for the eye to catch, they faded away. They had served their purpose, and his magic would wait until it was needed. 


End file.
